


The Reckoning

by FenrisTheFabulous (orphan_account)



Series: The Reckoning: The End of The Dragon Age [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comedy, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Tragedy, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/FenrisTheFabulous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know how Solas can be a douche a lot of the time??? Acts like he knows everything, gets all grim and fatalistic, fondles your ass while passionately kissing you then breaks up with you right after .... </p><p>Well what if there was a FemaleLavellan that didn't take his shit?? That puts him in his place when he needs it. Well, don't I have the perfect fic for you :D </p><p>Meet Loriel: She's confident, intelligent, and a total history nerd. She's upfront and honest. If you can't get on her level, she'll slap you, tell you why you suck, and put you there. She's inspiring, understanding, and a bold force of nature: everything Solas once was. </p><p>Can Loriel teach him to live again? To <em>feel</em> again?? Read and find out ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A Premonition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Witch_of_the_Wilds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_of_the_Wilds/gifts).



> "One day the magic will come back - all of it.  
> Everyone will be just like they were.  
> The shadows will part and the skies will open wide.  
> When he rises, everyone will see." -Sandal, DA 2
> 
> ~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~
> 
> And so my little author brain decided to write a fan fiction.
> 
>  
> 
> (P.S. Just an extremely important heads up: In this fic all my crazy theories are treated as cannon. Basically, Solas is Shartan as well as Fen'harel and Flemeth is Andraste as well as possessed by Mythal. Now for something ACTUALLY cannon. Shartan is the friend of Andraste who was partners with her in leading the Exalted March and was the figure head of the elven rebellion in the Imperium as well as in basically all of Thedas. So my little author brain, as always, got fired up and thought, "Well, hmmm doesn't that sound interesting." and so I did some research, and I am now fairly sure that I have guessed correctly. Do some research and you'll get what I mean.)

-223 Ancient Age, Skyhold 

It was late-day. It was cold and dark and a light rain had been drizzling on the stone of the keep for hours, making them slick and black in the absence of daylight. Above, the fade rippled in the sky in greens and blues, its light seeping through the clouds in muffled colors which gave a sickly taint to the whole area. A mass of elves and humans stood together huddled in the rain by the gates. Some were crying, many were yelling mindlessly, though most were arguing amongst themselves in fervors of terror and urgency. 

"She's dead! DEAD!" 

"Oh, Maker preserve us!" 

"She can't be dead! Oh, creators, no ..."

"They killed Andraste! Those bloody humans must pay!"

"Hey, I'm human!"

"Just like my master, you filthy -"

Just then, a great boom cracked through the air, causing the group to stop and look at the recently appeared person who was its source: a mage. He wore a druffalo-skin cloak, and stood before them through the gates they crowded at. His head was turned down, face hidden under his hood, his hand gripping his staff rigidly against the stone as if commanding attention. There was a long silence. He then looked up, and spoke in a tone that could command any army. 

"Open. The gates."

At that the disarrayed shouts immediately began again ...

"Shartan, oh thank the Maker you're back ..."

"Shartan has returned! The creators have not abandoned us yet!"

"Shartan!"

"Praise Mythal-"

His spoke once again, but this time his voice boomed through the keep, angry and demanding, "Open. The Gates. Now." His command echoed off the walls, magic in what he said, and the group was so stunned that they stared in fearful awe for several moments. 

A scruffy and heavily scarred human man in rugged uniform stepped through the crowd, "Ye-yes, Shartan." He looked towards the battlements, "WELL, MEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? OPEN UP THE GODDAMN GATES!"

 

~-~

Shartan sped through the keep, casting wards and magics to cover the whole grounds to negate enemy magics. His face was stone cold, yet furious, and without his hood and cape his true demeanor could be read: deadly. His blue eyes blazed in fight, though there was no enemy. Where he walked, groups of frightened people parted for him to pass, and none dared to ask what plagued him into such fury. They let him through, and only after he was out of sight did they cry to themselves; mothers hugging their children, men pacing or whispering to themselves and family in quiet panic. Their thoughts were all of the same root: 

"We’re all doomed ..."

 

~-~

He stopped in his tracks in the lowest circular room of the ritual tower. The room was a small one, and looked more like an eccentric study if anything else. At the center was a simple wooden desk, cluttered beyond salvation with texts and scripts and scrolls about who knows what. Around the borders of the room's continuous and circular wall were random items of furniture as well as a small bed burrowed right underneath a wooden platform. As boring and as little as what the room contained was, it was the whole wall itself which owed the entire space its beauty. Connected murals of deep rich colors left no blank surface. There were many figures in the art, some of each race of Thedas and some not even recognizable at all. Certain images of many figures seemed to obviously depict great struggles akin to war, while others of only singular figures seemed to depict deeper emotions not to be understood or guessed at without hours of deliberation and studying to each symbol, line, and shape. Such was the natural stunning realism of this room's art. There were two standout features of the room's art however: wolves and dragons. White wolves sleeping under shaded trees, black wolves stalking in the night. Dragons defending, fierce protectors. Dragons breathing vicious fire, the harbingers of war. There was, however, a certain image different than all the rest. It was the center image seen right as you enter the room: an elven girl with the bright red wings of a dragon hugging tightly to a black, monstrous wolf almost twice her size. The wolf was leaning over her and snarling, as if it was protecting the girl, as an encroaching darkness seemed to consume the image. The only color was the red of her wings, and the blue of the wolf's eyes. 

"Lavellan!" Shartan yelled through the tower, "Hurry! There is not much time!" 

And old elven man stepped down the stairs from the upper level and walked slowly through the archway, his back hunched and his head bald and his clothes of only simple brown and black cloths tied by rope around his waist.

"Ah Solas, my dear friend. How good it is to see you again ..." the old man said with a friendly smile as he entered the room. 

"This is no time for pleasentries-"

"Ah, but Solas, this is the perfect time for pleasantries. Would you prefer unpleasantries? If you wish it, I could give you a slap across the face if thats truly what you'd rather." The old man was up to Solas by now and was, despite his hunch, at level with his eyes. As they spoke, his beady orange eyes stared at him with an intensity and levity and a certain knowingness all in one expression. His look is one only seen on a genius, as well as any madman. 

Solas was getting profusely annoyed as well as angry, and was struggling to keep his composure, "Lavellan. I implore you." He gave the old man a momentary, threatening glare, "Listen."

"Oh, if I must." 

"The Imperium-"

"Is going after our little _god_ friends, I know." He picked up some notes on his desk and started flipping through them. 

At this, Solas's composure completely broke, "You-YOU KNOW?"

"Well, of course I do. I am the precious prophet slave of the present Archon, blessed by Mythal herself, if I recall correctly. Oh, excuse me, former slave. I always seem to forget the former part..." he licked his thumb and passively searched his notes some more. 

Solas shoved the notes from his hands and onto the floor, "YOU KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME AND NEVER INFORMED ME?" items around the room began to float off the floor in his anger and his voice carried the same echoing, booming magic as his outburst towards the earlier crowd. 

"Now, now, that won't do, will it?" said the old man. He took his staff which had been resting at his desk, lifted it, and crashed it against the stone floor. The room glowed in a dark, grayish blue haze. At a movement of his hand, the previously floating items returned to their places and Solas was pinned to the floor as outstretches of solid magic pulled him down and neutralized his magic. 

Solas was too shocked to say a word. It is a rare instance for him to be bested by another mage, and being pinned like this by an old man was too momentarily shocking for him to hold his anger. 

"Now listen to me, boy. Or should I call you Pride?" His voice was a low growl as he leaned above Solas on the ground, "That is what you are, so full of PRIDE you cannot see what is right in-front of you. I knew of our impending doom all of 27 minutes ago, at which time you were already rampaging through the castle like a madman. Your people cry and weep for their leader, yet you throw the biggest tantrum out of them all. Solas, you are a fool. I cannot help you with this." 

He released him of his bondages and grabbed his notes once again, and proceed to slap them down onto the floor by Solas's head, "Let us hope a fool such as you is idiotically BRAVE enough to save the world, then, shall we?" 

Dazed, Solas stood up, notes in hand, "These ... are notes to revive a foci..." 

"That they are, now here's a map to Mythal's tomb," He grabbed an ancient, ragged map and shoved it into Solas's hands. "She's waiting for you. You of all people must know how impatient that woman can be."

"Lavellan-" 

He lifted his staff and shoved it to Solas's chest, making him stumble back. Bewildered, Solas looked to the staff still outstretched to him, and then back to Lavellan. Hesitantly, he took the it from his hands while his eyes bore into his friend in sharp confusion and disbelif.

"Now shut up and save the world."

~-~

 

It would be ages before Solas would realize what the wooden staff truly was. It was not just a gift, but something more. It carried a charm: a wolf's jaw bone tied around its grip, which covered a message meant to be understood in a future he could have never guessed. 

"Dirthara-ma, Fen'harel. Mala suledin nadas ma abelas. Ma lathbora viran him ma revas."  
May you learn, Dread Wolf. Now you must endure your sorrows. Your path to the place of lost love becomes your freedom."


	2. Prologue: Dareth Shiral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loriel Lavellan's childhood written in sections. If you just don't like character history and (IMPORTANT) learning about one of the most IMPORTANT factors of how this story is gonna go down, then skip down to the last section. By far the coolest (and most important) ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some history of this fic:
> 
> \- solas, in previous chapter, was just about to create the veil as well as enter uthenera 
> 
> -solas was weakened from his past state already in previous chapter 
> 
> -Old Man Sassy-Pants (Lavellan from previous chapter) founded clan Lavellan and was also one of the main leaders in claiming and populating the Dales
> 
> -old man sassy pants was (is??) a priest of Andraste/Mythal, and maybe something more (definitely something more ehehe) 
> 
> -known (in my fanfic-world's theoretical lore) to be a prophet of the Goddess Mythal and was able to "sense her divine will" and see glimpses of the future that Mythal had in store for her people
> 
> -each 50 years in Clan Lavellan a new Priest/Priestess is picked to carry out Mythal's will and is named as 1st of the clan and is made next in-line to become Keeper  
> -want to find out how? well , you better get reading then ;)

~-~PART 1~-~

'Her name shall be ... Tammy.... no Tally..... wait, no I got it.....'

The keeper threw one of her arms in the air dramatically, as the other grasped a strangely quiet baby under her breast.

'TAMLEN! THAT'S HER NAME!'

Her Second, a blond-haired woman dressed in rough and intricate green mage cloths, promptly sighed and face-palmed in quiet disappointment.

'Keeper, Tamlen is a boy's name...'

'SO IT IS! A DAUGHTER OF MINE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BE AS STRONG AS ANY MAN! WOMEN ARE POWERFUL AND RIGHTEOUS! WE WILL BE THE HARBINGERS OF THE NEW AGE-' The Keeper's one free arm was flailing around in the air, and the baby in her right arm was swinging around quite harshly in her enthusiasm with such a serious expression that it almost looked aggravated. At least, as aggravated as a newborn can look.

'Keeper, your senses ...' Her Second places an arm on her shoulder in an attempt to calm her. 'You are tired and weak from birth. Mythal's divine will is overpowering you. This can be decided in the morning when you are more yourself. Now let me help you to your ...' She stopped mid-sentence with a look of confusion. Her Keeper had calmed and was now hunching over her baby and singing a soft Elven lullaby, her voice steeped in motherly love.

The Keeper beckoned her Second closer, 'Come, look into her eyes... Aren't they just so ... Knowing?'

She came closer, while slilently deciding to herself that her Hahren had finally and completely gone insane, and that the least she could do is oblige her in order to keep her from screaming again and waking up the whole camp.

'Yes, Keeper. They are indeed very ...' She paused and took a glance at the baby, which seemed to stare at her very seriously as if she were judging her. She sighed: all this late-night insanity was exhausting her. '... Knowing.'

They were both leaning over the baby now, which was laid in the Keepers lap.

'I will name her Ioriel ...' She stroked a finger down the baby's temple and past her bright orange eyes, "For her lovely eyes which reflect a soul almost as old as Arlathan itself..."

Her second looked aghast, "Keeper, Ioriell means old lady! I cannot allow you to name your first-born ...' She took a pause and made a disgusted expression '"grandma"...'

The Keeper became stern now; a high contrast from the dreamy expression she had just been carrying, and snapped her head towards her second with a harsh look, 'I Will will name her whatever I wish. And if that is "grandma", then so be it.'

The Second had decided the only way to save this child from her mother's stubbornness was to play along.

'Its not that Ioriell is an ugly name Hahren, it is just that ... It is so beneath what a fantastic baby such as this deserves.' She gave a quick glance to her keeper, who seemed to nod in contemplation in what she had just said. She, obviously, could not deny her baby was fantastic.

'I suggest we change only a single letter, so the name carries the same meaning but just sounds more appropriate-' The keeper gave her a dramatic and offended look, as if her calling the name inappropriate was such an insulting blasphemy that she must take it back right away.

'I MEAN EL- ELEGANT-" She cleared her throat, "So that it sounds more elegant and is more suitable for such a beautiful baby."

Her Keeper seemed to mull her words over as she delicately stroked her child's hair. It was a very long moment before she decided.

"Very well. Her name shall be Loriel." Her brief moment of sanity then quickly left. She began to whisper to herself and she stroked the baby, "Loriel, the ancient maiden of the Lavellan Clan. The harbinger of the new age ... She shall rival even dragons..."

Her second rolled her eyes, and stood up and held a hand out to her Keeper, " Yes. Yes. Now it is time for us to rest. Even babies, the rivals of dragons, must rest, Hahren.'

'Ah, yes... A new day, a new age ... You shall be powerful, ma mi'durgen...'

The Second sighed, leaned over, and picked up the baby from her Keeper's hands, 'Ah, well, if you don't wish to rest with your child, then I shall. I'm sure we will have riveting discussions about the politics of Ancient Arlathan...'

'NO, GIVE HER BACK!' She got to her feet quickly.

'Only if you agree to go and rest for the night.'

'Ah, fine. You truly are a trickster...', she gave her Second a look of deep hate and whispered, 'May the dread wolf take you ...'

'Yes, yes, may the dread wolf take me, now here's your baby.' She handed her Loriel.

As the keeper walked off, mumbling to her tent, her Second face-palmed once again with a deep and dramatic sigh.

'Ah Loriel, may Mythal guide you. You're going to need all the help you can get.'

~-~PART 2~-~

It was midday when Clan Lavellan's children gathered by the camp's story-circle for their daily teachings by the clan's Second, Athera. Loriel was twelve Summers by this time. Her hair had darkened to a deep auburn over the years, yet her eyes remained the same color as when she was born: bright orange just like her mother. Some teased that they grew in color by the day and that soon her eyes would be so bright that no one would be able to look at her straight on, since they would most definitely go blind.

Her mother, Keeper Deshana, though still young, was beginning to show signs of aging. Keepers tended to die young in the Lavellan Clan, since their connection with Mythal dragged and pulled at their spirits, making them weak and aging them much faster. But when a Levallan Keeper didn't die young and their aging was slow, this was proof that their spirit was resilient. These Keepers have been known to live for centuries, their ties to Mythal keeping them alive, as well as slowly driving them mad. Deshana was not one of these "lucky" ones, her fast aging being proof of this, and everyone worried for their Keeper's wellbeing, hoping that she wouldn't die before the next Vunin a Enansal: the Day of Blessings when Mythal chooses the next Keeper.

'HEY, GRANNY! TELL US A STORY!' yelled one of the boys in the circle to Loriel as they waited for Athera. 

'Do Not. Call me. Granny.' Loriel hissed. This boy was Jalhen: the ugliest, the rudest, and the most annoying of all the boys in the camp.

'Fine, GrandMA. Sorryy.' He proceeded to stick his tung out, 'Just tell us a story. Only Grandmas can tell good stories.' 

'Athera is gonna be here any minute ... And my name is LORIEL. Say it with me: Lor-ee-el. And I AM NOT a Grandma.' 

'Well, Keeper Deshana says so. And that doesn't matter, anyways, just tell us a storryy.' 

'YEAH GRANNY, TELL US A STORY!' another boy piped in. 

'PLEAASSEE!' said one girl, and then another, and then a boy, and then another boy, until the whole circle was, in unison, practically screaming. 

'PLEAASEE, GRANNY! COME ON, A STORY! JUST ONE STORY! LORIEL, PLEEEAASE! GRANDMAAAA, COME ON!' 

'UGH FINE!' she grinned despite herself, 'Just shut up and listen.'

The group gathered around her as Loriel told them of one of her many dreams of Arlathan. She spoke of its floating castles and pillared temples, and of how magic was in everything, and of how the sky was not just blue, but filled with a beautiful light prettier than any spell. The children were surrounding her so closely as her tale continued, that they were almost all nose-to-nose in an eagerness to not miss a single word. 

Her story darkened, since the dream she was describing was a nightmare. It was the fall of Arlathan. She described how the light left the sky and how the castles fell from the heavens, and how the whole city of Arlathan was buried under the ground, never to be seen by Elven eyes again. She described the screams she heard, and the ancient words they shouted in desperate gasps. And finally, she told them of Fen'Harel, the wolf in her dream, and how he mourned for his people. She spoke of the woman's voice in her dream which spoke of Fen'Harel. Spoke of how he was sad. She had the whole group on the brink of tears when Athera came, who walked over looking amused and slightly intrigued. 

She loudly cleared her throat, 'Am I interrupting something?' 

The whole group shuddered at her interruption, and looked up at her with watery, pouty faces, while others sat criss-cross and rubbed their eyes fiercely. 

'Tha- That wa- was- So S-Sad...' one girl hiccuped as she rubbed her eyes. 

'What was sad, ma Da'len?'

A boy replied, 'Loriel was telling us about one of her dreams...'

The previous girl hiccupped and whispered again, 'Everybody died ...'

'Who died?' asked Athera, who was trying to stop herself from chuckling. How cruel she must be, she thought, to find humor in the melancholy of children. 

'The ancient elves ... in Arlathan...'

'Well, of course they did, ma Da'len. By the work of Fen'Harel-'

Loriel stood abruptly at this and spoke quietly yet confidently, as if Athera's statement was a personal offense. 

'Fen'Harel didn't kill the ancient elves. The Imperium did.'

'Da'len, you're right. It was the Imperium that destroyed our people, but Fen'Harel who betrayed them and left them weak and vulnerable to be overrun.' 

Loriel protested, her confidence unwavering, 'But I saw him! He was sad! He loved the people who died-' 

'I know of your dreams, Loriel. You say he is kind.' She walked over to Loriel through the circle and glared down at her as she spoke in a harsh undertone, 'These dreams are just that: dreams. Do not spread your foolishness to others.'

'But, Mythal, she-' 

'MYTHAL? You say Mythal tells you that he is not at fault, that he is kind?!'

'But I heard her-' Loriel gasped as she was beginning to cry, 'I did ...'

'What you heard was your own imagination. You are foolish and unknowing. Grow up, Daughter of the Keeper. You are in no state to carry the honor that title bestows.' 

Athera was angry now. She had spent years training her Da'len, teaching of the evils of the wilderness that lurked outside the camp. Fen'Harel was one of her most forefront teachings, and to see it utterly denied by a child was insulting and extremely aggravating. Keeper's daughter or not, she thought, she must be taught a lesson. This has happened too many times to just let go. 

Loriel, shocked and crying ran off towards her mother's tent. 'Fenedhis!', thought Athera, 'Off to tell her mother. Now I must deal with both of their insanities...'

The group of children looked terrified at what had just happened. Some were muttering how they liked Loriel's stories better; that maybe the Dread Wolf wasn't such a bad guy at tall and that it was Athera who was the mean one. 

Athera started towards the Keeper's tent, fuming. She knew how much the Keeper loved her daughter, and that making her cry so could risk her position. 

'Well then ...' muttered Jalhen, as he watched his Hahren stomp away, 'Shit.' His voice and face were thick with worry, 'All this stupid girl-drama...' 

~-~PART 3~-~

It was the night of Vanin a Enansal. Many clans had traveled to Clan Lavellan's small camp in anticipation to see the next chosen of Mythal. The mass of elves was gathered in the center of camp around a huge bonfire, where they danced and sang and cheered for the coming of Mythal to bring her blessings down upon them and grant them good fortunes. Though this was an occasion that only occurred once every fifty years, it was the most anticipated and enjoyed holiday by all the Dalish clans in the Northern Free Marches. Hundreds of Dalish made a pilgrimage each half-century to Clan Lavellan, just so they could witness for themselves Mythal's divine touch choosing her next loyal follower, through whom she would convey her divine will. Whoever was chosen would become a leader among the Keepers, and would be highly revered throughout all the Dalish clans of Thedas. 

They feasted and celebrated for three days before the night of the Choosing as well as three days after. They ate their best from the reserves and spared no extravagance, decorating the camp in beautiful velfire lanterns which hung from vines spread out like a canopy overhead.

Loriel, now to be twenty-one summers in only 3 weeks, was dancing with Jalhen around the bonfire, he hair blood red with the fire's light, which so beautifully matched the color of her eyes. She wore her best robes: a green dress which traveled down to right above her knees, accented by various red ribbons and as well as a red sash around her waist. 

'Oh look, the Granny can dance!' yelled Jalhen as he pulled her in in awkward steps around the roaring crowd. 

'Oh look, the annoying arse-hole whose stepped on my feet about seven times can talk! Have you finally decided to stop focusing on mutilating my toes?!' Loriel said with a smile, as she batted Jalhen up the head.

Jalhen took his right foot and stepped on Loriel's. Hard. 

'OWWW!' 

'Thats what you get!' he yelled over the crowd with a grin, 'Oh, and make that eight times!' 

'Arse!', Loriel looked up to Jahlen, and pushed him as she laughed mischeiviously, 'Oh, and hey look, you can count!'

'I know! I've been practicing!' he leaned in by her shoulder, 'It was really hard actually. Just memorized up to nine yesterday...' 

Loriel laughed into his shirt, 'You're a mega-arse, you know that?' 

'Guilty as charged.' he said with a winning smile, which made Loriel laugh again. 

'You know, you're my best friend, Jalhen...' Their dance slowed as Loriel's tone became serious. She looked up at him then, and he looked down at her with a quizzical smile. 

'Yeah, I know ...' 

'And you would never forget about me, right?' 

'No, of course not-' 

She looked down and hugged him, completely stopping their dance, making them stand out in the still energetic crowd. 

'Loriel ...'

'I had this dream ...' she said slowly and just loud enough for him to hear, 'I left the clan. I was in a Shem castle, eating Shem food, wearing Shem armor... Well at least I think I was, I've never actually seen what Shems eat and dress in, but-' 

He reached out to her and lifted her face so she could look at him, 'Loriel, its just a dream ...' 

'Its not just that, I was surround by them, talking to them ... They all seemed to respect me ... It was so scary ... and lonely ...' 

'Hey, look at me.' She obliged, her eyes watery as she turned her face to meet him, 'I will never forget you. I promise.' 

Loriel nodded and smiled and she tried to wipe away her tears, 'Yeah, okay, but I'm holding you to that.' 

He gently chuckled, 'You better, and if you happen to become filthy rich with Shem-money, don't forget me, would ya? Wouldn't mind some extra pocket change.' He winked, and ruffled her hair. 

'Arse ...'

'The one and only ...' 

~-~

 

The festivities continued on for a couple hours longer, until the velfire lamps abruptly went out, signaling the beginning of the Choosing. The camp was thrown into sudden darkness and silence, the only light being the middle bonfire and the only sound the echoing voice of Keeper Dashana. 

She stood on a wooden pedestal in front of the bonfire as the crowd, in awe, stared at her and muttered quietly. 

'My people! We gather in celebration here today to honor the great protector! This clan's great protector! All our clans' great protector! The great MYTHAL!' 

Whoops filled he crowd in loud approval. 

'Tonight- She will bless upon one of my clan the grand duty of Prophet and First!' her arms raised in expression, 'She will choose the next leader of the Lavellan Clan! And in doing so, the next leader of all those faithful to Mythal!' 

Piercing cheers filled the area and fists punched the air as random screams of praise and religious reverance turned into one big, continuous and encompassing sound of excitement. 

'And so -' Deshana tried to continue over the crowd. She waited a moment for them to silence, and then continued, 'And so rest my friends! And know that when you wake, a new generation has begun! A new age for the Dalish!'

After a good half-hour the crowd dissipated and found resting places amongst the stars. As was tradition, they would sleep beside their friends until morning, by which time one young Lavellan Dalish will wake bearing the magical Vallaslin of Mythal given to them in the night: the symbol of Mythal's connection to its bearer. 

~-~

Loriel walked with her mother down to their tent, where there lay two previously prepared sleeping mats outside the tent entrance. They had been walking in silence, and Loriel had noticed a dark look in her mothers eyes and aged face. When they arrived, Deshana took a deep sigh and turned to her daughter, and watched her with sad eyes.

Loriel took a step towards her, and took her wrinkled hands in hers, her eyes searching her mother's face for any explanation for her sadness, 'Mother, whats wrong?' 

Deshana pulled her into a deep hug, and sighed into her hair, 'My daughter, I am so sorry ... I wish ... I was strong enough ...'

'What do you-'

'For you. I wish I was strong enough for you.'

Loriel was worrying now, and tried to ask for some explanation, 'If you don't tell me whats going on right now-'

She took her daughter's face into her hands and looked her in the eyes, 'There will be dark times, emm'asha. And there will be bright ones. But know this...' She took her hand and brushed a loose strand of auburn hair behind Loriel's ear, who was staring, terrified, up at her, 'Though all may seem black, you are the light. The raging sun against the falling sky.' 

'MOTHER, WHAT-'

'Shhh, emm'asha.' She brought her fingers to her daughters temples and quietly whispered a spell. 

Loriel's vision was fading, and her awareness of her body was growing fuzzy. The last thing she would remember before falling asleep would be the kind words and worried eyes of her mother, dimmed red in the night. 

'Be strong, Loriel. Ar'lath, ma da'assan.' 

Be strong, Loriel. I love you, my little arrow. 

Dashana lowered her almost-asleep daughter down to her mat, and whispered one last wish of good will, 

'Suledin ma shiral. Mahvir, ma nadas abelas then."

Endure your journey. Tomorrow, your inevitable sorrow begins.

~-~

It was so dark. 

'Why is it so dark ...' Loriel whispered to herself. 

She was only 10 summers now, small and alone, standing in a dark abyss. She felt a cold wind, and began to shiver.

'Mamae! Mamae, where are you?! It's so cold-' 

She clutched at her self, and fell to her knees as all the warmth left her small body in a sudden instant.

'Mamae! MAMAE!' 

She began to cry into her hands, and realized she could not see them. 

'MAMAE, MY HANDS! WHERE ARE MY HANDS?!'

She tried to grab at her surroundings for anything, for something that she could see, but found nothing. She could not even feel the ground. 

So she fell. 

She felt a horrible razor sharp wind as she screamed and fell down the abyss. 

She landed with a thump on new ground, screaming, screaming. 

"MAMAE MAMAE MAMAE! MAMAE, HELP, PLEASE!' 

She began to feel her energy fading, ' Ma'arlath, mamae ... please ...'

I love you, mummah ... please ....

Just then, a huge black wolf, appeared, growling. 

She screamed and stumbled back, but then a new hope hit her, 'I can see you ...' 

The wolf growled in her direction, bent low to the ground and ready to attack. 

Loriel looked closer. 

It wasn't growling at her, but at at the abyss. At the darkness. 

She could feel warmth return to her body. 

She decided to move closer to the wolf. Its fighting the cold. Its making her warm. 

A booming voice of an old woman echoed through the space, 'So, tell me girl ...' 

Loriel didn't hear it, she only knew she was getting warm. Getting warm. 

She kept moving towards the wolf. 

The voice returned, 'Will you run from your destiny ...'

She didn't hear. Didn't hear. Only the warmth. Only the wolf. 

She noticed blood. The wolf was bleeding. Standing in a pool of blood.

Let me help you, she thought. Let me help ...

She noticed the wolf's eyes. 

Bright blue. 

Please stop growling, she thought, I want to help ... here to help ...

'...or will you embrace it ...'

She reached out for the wolf. 

Help you, I can help ...

Then, a bright light consumed her vision, and she heard the mad cackling of the voice. 

This time, she heard. 

The white light broke, and a red dragon burst into form and flew at her. Through her. 

Breathing fire and burning the white into an orange sea of flame. 

She woke, screaming.

~-~

She sat up on her mat with an ear-piercing scream. 

'MAMAE! MAMAE!'

Deshana, awake, shuffled over to her daughter and took her in her arms. 

'MAMAE, IT BURNS! MAKE IT STOP!'

Red-hot and glowing markings were engraving themselves down her body. A tearing fire burned down her neck, her chest, her arms, her legs ...

'MAMAE MAKE IT STOP, OH PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!' 

Dashana was crying against her daughter's hair, "Loriel, I'm so sorry ...' She took her daughter by the temples again, and put her under a forced, dreamless sleep. 

Loriel awoke the next morning, red markings, just like her mother's, engraved into her body. 

This is how Loriel Lavellan took her first steps towards destiny.

This is how she started on her path towards changing the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter stuff actually starts happening, i promise. Prologue: End. (p.s. if you don't like my nickname for old man Lavellan then you're just gonna have to deal. i love it. old man sassy pants is love. is life)


	3. She is The Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas whilst caring for extremely sexy and unconscious/dying Loriel: 'WTF THATS MY MARK GIVE IT BACK- ..... wait.... you're actually kinda hot ...' *proceeds to stroke hair creepily* '... you shall bare my godly babies ....'
> 
> and that is all the explanation i shall give. perfect summarization if i may say so myself.
> 
> I HAVE A VERY IMPORTANT QUESTION: doesn't solas look like handsome squidward?? (if you don't get my reference than you suck jk but really though watch more spongebob)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yea solas meets Loriel for the first time as she's dying from his mark (ha that probably turns him on). Short chapter: just want to get the ball rolling, ya feel me?  
> #solasisadirtylittlefcker #solasissophisticatedlysassy #solaslikesgingers #idkitsweird #probcausehe'saginger #narcissist #wonderifhe'sintobaldies #idefinitelyam #theresultsofsexybaldelvhengods #saveme

~~PART 1~~

Solas was in the fade, the area surrounding him taking the form of a beautiful red-flowered meadow. He was sitting, crosslegged yet regal, and in deep thought as he handled his wolf jawbone necklace in a nervous tick. His expression was heavy and turned downward, as if he had just taken a huge gulp of _disgusting_ fade tea. 

'You called?' said a formless dark entity appearing suddenly as a dark mist a good ways in front of him. 

Solas stood up, and straightened his posture, 'My friend, I must ask of you your assistance-' 

The entity chuckled, a deep and bellowing sound, ' _again_?'

'Yes. _Again_.' 

'Well get on with it.' The shapeless mist traveled up to Solas and proceeded to take the form of an elven man. 'I don't have all day. No wait, _I_ do. But _you_ don't. Isn't that right?' The man checked deeply, ' _Dread Wolf_.'

The man was young, tall and dark, his hair raven black and in a long braid that went down to his hips. He wore loose black robes tied by a delicate red rope around his waist. His eyes burned a bright red which almost seemed to glow by the effects of the fade. 

'That is correct.' Solas said, his tone wavering, 'Now, if would listen to me and stop chuckling to yourself-' 

'HA, Fen'Harel telling The Great Dirthamen what to do?' He smirked and his red eyes grew dark, 'This really _must_ be serious.' 

'Lavellan ...' Solas sighed. 

Dirthamen took a deep and sarcastic sigh, ' _Solas_ ...' 

Solas gave him an angry glare, and spoke rigidly, 'To the point-' 

'Your little friend, Coriphypus, or whatever his name is, has your orb and is tearing the world apart.' Solas's eyes grew very wide at this, as if he wasn't used to his friend always seeming to know everything as it happens.

'There's also a girl with a mark carrying its magic and, if my spirity senses don't betray me, you seem to find this girl ...' He took a short pause as his smirk grew, 'attractive?' 

'WAIT NO, WHAT-'

Dirthamen laughed loudly, and patted Solas roughly on the back, 'And so The Great Dread Wolf, even in times of imminent peril, can notice a nice set of perky elven breasts when he sees one!'

Solas looked utterly aghast. 

Dirthamen's expression suddenly became soft, almost endearing, as he gripped his friend's shoulder, 'Glad to see you haven't changed ...' A soft smile was at his lips as his brow furrowed in an expression of sympathy. 

Solas expression grew slightly sad, and he looked all together confused, 'Lavellan ...' 

'You even use my mortal name...' He paused and gripped Solas by the other shoulder as well, 'What a good friend ...' He seemed to have whispered the comment to himself as his sad eyes burrowed into Solas's extremely confused ones. 

'Now hear me out, Dread wolf,' He released Solas and took a respectful step away from him, 'You have little time. That girl dies more quickly by the minute. She is key to everything that is to come, and her death shall surely mean your inevitable and ultimate failure.' 

Solas's expression went serious, 'What must I do?' 

'Have you noticed her Vallaslin? How it is different?' 

'I have noticed the certain ... _connection_ is has to the fade, yes.'

'What you must do is transfer the mark's power to her markings, so they may become a conductor for its energy. But remember this!' Derthamen's eyes grew bright red, 'The connection must be subtle, _extremely_ subtle. Her strange Vallaslin must appear like any other set of slave markings, if only at first glance.' 

'They already do look different... the design is ... not the same ... and there is a strange energy about them ... could this energy amplify the effects of mine?' 

Dirthamen nodded, 'Quite possibly, yes.' 

'Then this shall be difficult ...' Solas looked off into the distance, his "ew, tea is gross" face very much present. 

He looked back to Dirthamen, his expression now quizzical, 'One more thing ... You told me that she is "key?"' 

'OH LOOK AT THE TIME, I THNK ITS NEARLY SUPPER!' 

'Spirits do not eat, Lethallin...'

'WELL, YES OF COURSE-' Dirthamen waved his hands in the air as if he was explaining something in great detail, 'ITS JUST THAT I HAVE GUESTS -' 

'Guests ...?' Solas arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

'YES, VERY IMPORTANT GUESTS, SO I'M AFRAID YOU MUST LEAVE. WOULDN'T WANT THE FEARSOME DREAD WOLF SCARING OFF THE DELICATE SPIRITS NOW, WOULD WE?' 

'... _Fearsome_ ...?' Solas felt his vision of the area fading. 'LAVELLAN! Agh, fenedhis!' 

The last thing Solas saw was Dirthamen's face; his expression mischievous and with such a devilish smile he almost looked malicious. 

'Bye, Fenny. Say hello to those elven tits for me, would you?' and with a final wink from his friend, Solas's surroundings went black.

He woke with a start in the healing house at Haven; his head and upper body draped over the side of the elven girl's bed as he sat on the wooden floor beside her. 

He stood up abruptly and took a long hard look at the girl and her Vallaslin as she writhed and winced in pain on top of the sheets.

'I'm sorry...' he whispered, 'I'm afraid I shall only increase your pain ...' 

Dismissing Dirthamen's earlier (*ahem*) _comments_ , he decided it was time to focus on the task at hand. He kneeled down over her and brushed tears away from her cheek, 'I'm so sorry...' 

All of a sudden, a bright green light consumed her Vallaslin, a green glow tracing its designs through her clothes. She screamed in pain, her body convulsing and tensing. 

Solas proceeded with his work and whispered under his breathe with an exasperated sigh, 'Another sin of mine I can never forgive ...'

~~PART 2~~

'Aw shit, my head ...' 

_Damn, my back hurts, was I knocked out ..._

'TELL ME WHY WE SHOULDN'T KILL YOU NOW.' 

'AH, FUCK!' _Did I just scream? Oh my Gods, where in the void am I ..._

Loriel was sitting in a dungeon room, surrounded by guards, and being harassed by a crazy shem woman who had just snuck up behind her (as she was waking up) and yelled in her ear. 

_What the hell is going on ..._

She tried to move her hand to rub her eyes and noticed they were cuffed, 'Shit ...' She then noticed a huge ass green light on her hand, 'HOLY SHIT!' 

The shem lady didn't notice and kept talking, 'The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead.' 

'UH YEA SURE, BUT MY HAND-' 

Crazy Shem lady ignored her as she continued to pace at the room's entrance, 'Except for you ...' 

'Yea the conclave ... wait you mean _the_ conclave? I was just there ...' 

Crazy Shem then proceeded to stomp up to Loriel, rudely grab her green-glowy hand, and shove it in her face, 'Explain - _THIS_ -' 

Loriel look from her hand, then to Crazy Shem, then back to her hand, and then promptly decided that she was was _mega_ pissed, 'Explain? What do you mean explain?! How about you fucking _explain_? My hand is glowing like a dwarf's rear end when it first hits daylight, and you expect me to know _WHY_!?' 

_This fucking bitch! Wait a second ... dwarf butts don't glow ... Oh my god, Loriel, focus-_

'Are you saying you don't know?' Crazy Shem said super meanly while leaning over Loriel, her stinky breath in her face. 

_Of course not, you bitch..._

'Of course not! Wasn't exactly on my what-to-do-today checklist to get my hand fucking torn up by a green thing, and then get woken up- _rudely_ -and screamed at by some random shem, who, _by the way_ , could really use some elfroot mouthwash.' 

_Dang, that shem breath staaaank... Holy Andruil, Loriel, stop._

Crazy Shem looked offended, 'My breath doesn't ... that is beside the point!'

Crazy shem started to blush. 

_Is she seriously blushing? She was about to tear my head off a second ago ..._

In support of her stupid friend, another Shem stepped forward. She was a redhead, with a really pointy face, and actually looked kinda nice. 

_Oh thank the Creators, maybe its a sane person-_

'Do you remember what happened? How this began?' asked Pointy Face. 

_Good question, Pointy Face, good question ..._

'Huh ....' Loriel scrunched up her face, her brow dipping so low into her red eyes that she almost looked like a confused nug, 'Well I was at the conclave, then not ... I don't know ... it was all green ...' 

Pointy Face's expression grew very scary. 

Loriel's Confused-Nug face turned to Scared-Nug face, 'Um, well uh ...' 

'Is that all?' asked Pointy Face. 

_How does someone's face even get to look that scary ..._

'There was a lady ...' 

'A ... lady?' 

Pointy Face was shooting eye daggers, 'Uh, yea ... a lady.' 

Crazy Shem Lady walked forward and spoke up, 'Go to the Forward Camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.' 

Pointy Face nodded. 

_What's the Forwards camp... Forward camp? Ugh, who cares if its plural ..._

Crazy Shem kneeled down and unlocked Loriel's cuffs. 

'You know, you're breath doesn't actually stink ...' _No it does, but please don't kill me._

She nodded gruffly. 

'So uh, what actually did happen?' 

She gripped Loriel by the elbows and roughly helped her up, 'It will be easier to show you.' 

_You know what else would be easy? Brushing your teeth ..._

And so they left, Crazy Shem and Loriel, hand in hand (not really) into the sunset, where they would find an Egg. A very peculiar Egg, mind you. And, of course, Loriel's first thoughts would be, amidst observing this egg, _Dang, what head moisturizer does he use? I can almost see my reflection ..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is more focused on Solas (I said Loriel at first but nvm jk lol sry), but I plan on doing both Solas and Loriel POV's throughout. 
> 
> "Solas is love. Solas is life" -the words of a certain individual who might or might not be losing their little writer mind due to exhaustion at the (late??/early??) hour of 3:44 a.m.


	4. Hope of Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Solas is freakn out, Loriel is still a little crazy. I mean there isn't that much explanation needed, its pretty straightforward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loriel isn't this crazy usually, its just the result of her body recognizing she's in danger. It happens when she's in extremely emotional or dangerous situations. She'll be back to normal like the first couple chapters soon, i promise ;)  
> (think back to Keeper Deshana in the beginning of chapter 2 *hint hint hint hint* it'll be explained later, just don't get all worried that she's too crazy lol) 
> 
> btw i love Varric, so he should make many appearances in the chapters to come ;)  
> (not a huge fan of Cassandra haha soooo.... but i respect her and she's pretty connected to Varric so she should show up too)

The rift was raging in the sky above Solas and his companion. It shone like a green, raging fire against the heavens, pieces of the physical world being dragged up into it as if the the laws of the material plane held no power against it. It seemed to be all-consuming in its power, and although it was beautiful in all its other-worldly awe, it was much more dangerous, as Solas knew too well. 

They were fighting a small rift; a side effect of the blast and ultimately a waste of time compared to the bigger issue. Solas's companion however, a dwarf, didn't seem to mind that their battle was a lost cause, as he had previously pointed out. 

' _I don't care if its a lost cause, elf. I'm staying and fighting, even IF the Seeker never shows._ ' Solas remembered the Dwarf saying. 

_How foolish..._ , Solas had thought, _modern mortals and their tenacity..._

Solas looked to the Dwarf, fighting bravely against the monsters his mistake had set upon the world. Guilt crashed through him then, a feeling Solas was, by this point, very familiar with, though its effects on him always ran deep.

_I will stay until this Dwarf is safe, then I shall flee. Though I should go now, knowing of another death caused by this mistake ... is too much ..._

He continued on with his fighting then, even while knowing they had no means by which to succeed. They were far into the heart of the chaos, rifts on either side no matter what path they took. The demons were endless; demons of pride and and despair being the majority, feeding off the powerful presence Solas's emotions created. He was starting to feel weak, his head feeling light and body aching. The Dwarf, as Solas noticed, was becoming weary too: his head just a bit more lowered, his posture just slightly more lax, and his movements just a bit more slowed. The once agile rogue was now taking hits and being overrun, and Solas knew that the dwarf had little time left if there was any chance for his survival. He had to think of a plan: anything. He knew he should leave and abandon this Dwarf, but his conscience wouldn't allow it. He knew he would stay until the Dwarf died, and he had no idea how much more damage his own weakened body could take until then. He had to come up with a strategy, anything, yet his mind could not properly function. He felt only guilt for what was before him: a tear in the sky and so many spirits corrupted, all the results of _his_ horrible mistake. 

His survival instinct was a small voice, screaming in his mind, yet he ignored it as his grip on his emotions began to fail. 

' _This is all my doing ... not another death ... not again ..._ ' he thought, as he tightened his grip on his staff and shot ice at a despair demon as it came for him. 

Then a thought struck him, and a moment of hope stilled his panic for a moment longer, ' _The girl... She has power from my orb ... Maybe she ... Only she could possibly stop this..._ His thoughts then went to the breach, and he hoped maybe she could be his redemption: maybe she could undo his horrible mistake.

_No, even if she has a part of the orb's power, the chance that it is enough to seal the breech, or even any rift, is slim. No ... this is my battle. This, I must remember..._

__The despair demon slashed him harshly across the chest, and he fell back against the ruin wall behind him and into the snow._ _

__'Hey, Elf! You okay back there!?' called the Dwarf in a casually mocking tone, though his worry was underlying and obvious._ _

__An arrow whistled through the air and sliced into the Demons middle, its tip almost touching Solas's chest as the Demon's body, looming over him, went still with the impact. It then grabbed itself, and flailed its arms as it dissipated while sinking to the ground._ _

__'Thank you. That was quite close.' Solas said, with a smile._ _

_Steel yourself. You must hold strong._

__'Hey Chuckles, don't look now, but I think we have company.'_ _

Solas stood and looked around quickly for a larger onslaught of enemies. 

'The _friendly_ kind.' He said with a sigh and a shake of his head as he continued to shoot a demon, 'And didn't I tell you not to look? Keep your head in the game, Chuckles.' 

__Solas looked anyways, his gaze towards the hill's stairs, where he saw a little red head rising and coming atop the hill. She had a companion, he noticed: the Seeker by the looks of the white eye blaring at him from the figure's chest plait. He then noticed the identity of the girl. It was the elf, the one infused with his orb's power. He could sense the energy in her, and just as she approached and joined their fight, his past hope rang through him again:_ _

_Maybe she has the power ... at least enough ... maybe ..._

__As the final demon fell, he decided he would waste no time in finding out._ _

__'Quickly, before more come through!'_ _

__He grabbed her wrist and shot her hand towards the rift while manipulating his magic over her marked palm to see if he could coax any reaction._ _

__It worked, much to Solas's relief; green power beamed from her hand and to the rift, closing it in crash of energy._ _

__Before Solas could even speak or register the miracle of what had just happened, she spoke, 'Seriously, Baldie, you too? Is it HEY LET'S ALL GRAB LORIEL'S WRIST AND FLING IT RUDELY day?' She paused and scrunched her face in thought, 'That was pretty fucking cool, though, so nice... Or good job...? Or thanks, I guess?' She nodded and scrunched her face in approval, her arms crossed, 'Yea thanks, Baldie. Nice one.'_ _

__His first impression of this girl was that she was most likely very strange, but he dismissed it, 'Do not thank me. I did nothing. The credit is yours.'_ _

__'Ooooh, you mean my glowy green thing?' She looked at her hand, 'Well, guess its not just for show, huh? Thats a freaking relief. Wouldn't want those shem prissies accusing me of making a bizarre fashion statement. That would get annoying _very_ fast.' She smiled widely, took a step over to Solas and gripped his shoulder. _ _

__'So tell me, my new found Baldie friend.' She laughed at his expression, which looked confused and slightly in a suppressed calm, 'Mind telling me how in Hell you knew it would do that? You know, close the crazy-scary green thingy and all ...' She leaned in, her eyes harsh and their faces a couple inches apart._ _

__He started, his brain having gone blank by the shock of her, and especially by what she had just said, 'Well-' he began._ _

__'Solas is an apostate.' intervened Cassandra._ _

__He took an internal sigh of relief, and pressed on with an answer._ _

__He smiled, 'Technically, all mages are now apostates Cassandra.' He looked to Loriel, making sure his smile was unwavering as he spoke, 'My travels have allowed me to explore much of the fade, far beyond the experience of any circle mage. The knowledge I gained through my travels led me to hypothesize-'_ _

__'Ok ok, I understand. Sorry Baldie.' Loriel stepped back, paused, then began to stare critically at Solas's head, her hand to her chin pensively and her face extra scrunched._ _

__Solas thought she was extremely strange now, and was getting fairly irritated._ _

__'Excuse me, but,' He looked behind himself, trying to find what she might be looking at, 'But what are you staring at?'_ _

__'Oh my, Chuckles, I think you're shiny scalp's earned its first admirer.' said Varric with a wink._ _

__'Wha-?'_ _

'Its just so shiny ...' Loriel's brow furrowed very, very deeply. Her face looked like that of a squashed nug's. 'Tell me, Baldie, what moisturizer do you use?' 

Solas lost all hope the second she finished her question.

'I beg your pardon?'

'Would you let me borrow it sometime?' Loriel asked, as a devious smile spread across her face.

For a split second, Solas thought her sqaushed, smiling face looked almost ... appealing, cute even. That _betrayal of intelligence_ , as Solas thought it, lasted briefly; his next thought being quite different:

_This girl will be the end of us all ..._

Solas promptly sighed, his forehead in the palm of his hand in the most regal face-palm ever witnessed, while his companions just lightly laughed.

_If they only knew ..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now that you read it, here's some explanation. I wrote Solas's "POV" differently than Loriel's because I wanted to capture the separate moods of the two. I wrote Loriel's much more simplely and concise for that reason. Just saying encase you were wondering.


	5. Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, pretty straightforward: Loriel is like that baldhead tho, and solas is like ugh i hate her wtf. then they get married and have a million wolfybabies LOL WAIT never mind thats later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just some summary of characters we got right now: 
> 
> -Jelahn: typical guyfriend, sarcastically humorous, cute but annoying, messy brown hair (shoulder length elven style), hazel eyes  
> (22 years old)
> 
> -Niala (she comes up this chapter): Jelahn's younger sister, innocent, also cute but way more annoying, doesn't shut up, loves Loriel, messy brown hair in a pixie cut, hazel eyes  
> (13 years old) 
> 
> -Keeper Deshana: Loriel's mom, brown-red-grey hair, dark brown-red eyes, aging fast, dying, loves Loriel deeply, gets glimpses of the future from Mythal  
> (50 years old, looks around 75)
> 
> Ok well yea thats all the important OC's for now ... hehehe they don't come up for a while but just remember them so that when they DO we can all cry in the feels together ;D

~-~PART 1~-~

The Dalish camp was vibrant and jovial. The sun shone down on the area with a peaceful tranquility, the sky was blue and vibrant, and everything seemed to be well. Children giggled as they chased each other through the camp, the elderly watching them with wistful smiles and light laughs. Loriel and the young of the clan were gathered by the fire pit in middle of the camp, where she was the center of attention as she told them one of her new stories.

'And so there was this huuuge _wolf_ -' she said quietly as she leaned over towards the group as she sat on one of the logs. Her face was scrunched and her eyes serious as she focused on creating dramatic effect.

'Standing there, staring me down, like it was gonna pounce at any second ...'

'Ooohh, did it?' asked Jelahn's younger sister, Niala, who sat at Loriel's feet and was looking up at her in awe and attention. She had messy brown hair and hazel eyes just like her brother.

'No. But it _snarled_ and bared its teeth ...' Loriel made a face she thought resembled close to snarling as she pointed to her mouth, 'Like that, ya know?'

Jelahn, who was sitting next to her, rolled his eyes, 'Yes, Lory, I think we know what the word snarling means ...'

A handsome bald elf, who sat on Loriel's other side, reached over behind Loriel and punched Jelahn's arm , 'Hey, don't interrupt'

The rest of the group approved.

'Yea Jelahn, don't interrupt!'

'Pfft, stupid Jelahn.'

'Jelahn sucks.'

Jelahn looked remorseful and immediately apologized, 'I'm sorry, I'm stupid. Keep going Loriel.'

'Yea, I'm trying, but you idiots won't -' Loriel paused and looked to Jelahn, confused, 'Wait, you just called me by my full name ....'

Handsome Baldie reached an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek, his fabulously chiseled face in an intense smolder, 'Ignore him, Love. Keep going.'

Loriel blushed and giggled lightly, 'Yea, ok ...'

She tried to get out of his grip and turn back to the group so she could keep telling the story, but Handsome Baldie wouldn't budge and he just kept looking at her, his lips pursed and brow low. Loriel thought he looked like a duck.

She tried to wriggle free, but he was too strong and held her there. His face, which seemed frozen in its duckness, leaned forward until their noses almost touched. Handsome Bald Duck was definitely starting to scare her.

'Hey, um ...'

Handsome Baldie placed a finger to her lips and and made a very dramatic face, 'Shhh, don't speak.' he brought a hand to her cheek, ' _Kiss me_.' he said dramatically in a suddenly husky voice. 

He started to lean in, his lips puckering like a fish.

'Woah woah woah, back off buddy!' Loriel pushed him away, forcing him to go flying in the air and fall on his face a good fifteen feet away.

Handsome Baldie lied on the grass splayed out on his stomach for a moment, then quickly stood up, his face still in a smolder, and dramatically blew Loriel a kiss. He stretched his arms towards Loriel longingly, 'I will always love you ...' He then turned around, squatted, and proceeded to quickly scuttle away into the forest.

Loriel was getting fairly confused, but just shrugged her shoulders, and turned back to the group, 'Well that was weird ...'

A couple people from the group urged her to continue her story, Niala tugging on her leg.

'Hey, what about the wolf?' asked a young elf in the gathering.

'Yea, the wolf!' Niala said cheerfully.

Loriel nodded, 'Yea, right. Ok back to story time ...'

'So the wolf was really scary, ya know? Growling at me and everything ...'

The group nodded three times in perfect unison, Niala staring up at her in a still, unnaturally wide-eyed smile.

'Yea ...' She gave them a quick suspicious look, 'So uh, but then I noticed it wasn't growling at me, but at the uh ... sky? Give me a second, this part's confusing ...'

The nodded in unison again with unchanged expressions.

'Um, yea ... So then I noticed it was bleeding ... and I heard this voice in my head -well probably my voice- that I should help it ...'

She noticed, then, that they were all blank-faced and staring at her intently. Their eyes were unnaturally wide and Niala's smile gone.

She turned to Jelahn at her side, who was sitting straight and still, staring at her expressionlessly.

'You guys are acting a bit weird ...'

They didn't respond.

'Ok, so um ... Well I decided that I should help it, so I went up to it and ...' She looked down and scratched her head pensively, 'Hugged it?'

They nodded.

'I can't remember what happened after that, though ...'

She brought her hands too her lap and looked down, confused. It was then that she noticed her arms, unmarked and plain.

She brought a forearm up closer to her face for and traced a finger over her skin, 'Wait, this doesn't look normal ...'

A woman's voice rang through the air, ' _Can't even remember my gift to you, girl?_ '

The voice let out a rumbling chuckle.

_'Think. Do not escape your troubles through madness.'_

Loriel looked around herself for the source of the voice, 'My ... my troubles?'

_'Remember.'_

Loriel's face scrunched in distress as she stood up while turning around herself to look for the source of the voice, 'What do you mean?'

She looked to her friends around her, whose bodies were beginning to crack. She looked to Jelahn; a deep ridge was spreading down the middle of his emotionless face as a strange ethereal red light glowed from it as it continued to move further down.

_'Remember ...'_

She looked to Niala, whose body was falling apart as red cracks were branching over her small frame. Her face was still and she showed no sign of pain or feeling. 

'Wha- What's going on?'

Taking a step back from her friends, she noticed a red glow in her peripheral vision to her right. She looked, and found the ground splitting beneath her feet rapidly as bright red light burst out from underground around her. Before she had time to react, the landscape around her splintered and dissolved under her feet, and everything turned black. 

She screamed as she fell back-first, unable to see or sense anything around her.

She landed suddenly.

Standing, she frantically looked around herself. Everything was black, with no discernible landscape of features. It was as if she was blind.

The pain came suddenly, spreading through her like instant fire from with her body. She screamed and clutched at her left hand, which burst open with green and red light. Falling to her knees, it spread through her, until her vision became consumed by red and green. 

The voice returned, _'You have remembered ...'_

Loriel felt the pain fade and her vision clear. 

_'Now you must face it.'_

The pain suddenly ended and she was able to see. A strange feeling of calm and detachment came over her, as if her body was not her own and her conscience had shut down. Standing up, she looked around herself, slowly, at the newly appeared, yet dark landscape.

Turning around, she spotted a horde of heavily armored men running at her. They glowed a sickly red and on their chest pieces were engravings of swords.

She ran the opposite direction and noticed a light atop a cliff-like area a small distance away. Without thought, she made the light her destination.

The men were almost to her, waving their swords in the air and yelling battle cries. So she ran, reached the cliff, and climbed.

They climbed after her, and were right behind her, their red glow lighting up Loriel's vision. Some were reaching for her, trying to grab her ankles and pull her down ...

In what seemed like only seconds, she was approaching the summit. As she climbed, she noticed the summit's light. It was in the shape of a woman, reaching out to her ...

She reached back, and then noticed the woman's face.

It was her own. Loriel's. The woman's light went out and she turned dark like a shadow, her expression in a twisted, evil smile.

The shadow leaned over Loriel aand grabbed her by the wrist, holding her at the edge of the cliff as the armored men reached her and she felt chilled fingers and touches up and down her legs.

' _Run_ ' the shadow whispered.

It leg let go and began cackling as Loriel went falling, screaming, to the ground.

Everything went black as its cackling grew louder and louder and began to echo in Loriel's ears.

She woke up in a sweat.

~-~PART 2~-~

With a scream, Loriel sat up, grabbing her head while quickly breathing. Sweat was dripping down her forehead and she felt clammy and gross. The tight, beige clothes she was dressed in stuck to her body, and she could feel the knots and grease of her long, auburn hair in her fingers. 

After the few moments of shock from her dream passed, she noticed her surroundings. 

_Where am I?!_

She was in a small building, in a strange soft piece of furniture she had never seen in person, or even been in before. 

_Is this a bed? Why am I in a shem bed?! ___

She pulled off the sheets, and looked around herself, on the floor, around the room. Everything was unfamiliar for her, as if she were in a different world. She had never been in a building, only small tents and arrevels, and everything in the room was new to her. She looked to her left where she found a barrel, on top of which was a candle and a couple of small objects. She picked up one, a necklace given to her by her mother. It was a wolf's jawbone fastened onto a thin leather strap and tied at the strap's ends. It was a crude thing, yet she cradled it in her hands as her mind searched itself for any explanation. 

_Ok, Lory. You're fine. You must have gone Mythal Crazy so now you can't remember. Just focus._

She scrunched her face in thought and clutched at her necklace.

_You were at the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Spying. Then ... UGH WHAT HAPPENED THEN!!??_

She groaned and slammed her head into her fists, still gripping the jawbone. 

As if on cue to create the most intensely stressful and shocking situation for Loriel ever, an Elven servant girl walked in mid Loriel freak-out. 

'Oh!' the girl dropped what she was carrying, 'I didn't know you were awake! I swear!' 

Loriel started in shock as she silently swore under breath, staring back at the girl wide-eyed. 

_Holy - Work brain, work-_

'Well, um, that's ok. But-' She let go of her necklace and put it back on the barrel next to her bed, 'I'm not crazy, I promise, but do you know where I am?' 

_Of course she does. Normal people, unlike you, know where they are most of the time, idiot._

The servant girl fell to her knees. 

_What the-!!??_

'You are back in Haven, my Lady. They say you saved us. The breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand.' 

_Mark on my- Wait, Breach? Like as in breeches? Pants? Not pants, idiot, pants don't grow-_

'It's all anyone has talked about for the last three days!' 

Loriel was staring at the girl blank-faced, and, to put it simply, was obviously freaking out. Her face looked like that of someone who had just been slapped, had no idea in hell why, and was just too shocked to comprehend the fact that a hand had just been whacked across their face. 

The servant girl didn't notice, however, since she was too busy shoving her face to the floor in her dramatic prostration. There was a long silence between the two, where Loriel just stared at the girl's head wondering what in the void was going on. 

Loriel felt herself beginning to cry. She struggled to keep together, and suddenly felt grateful that the girl was looking at the floor, and not her face.

'How - How did I get here?' 

'With Lady Cassandra and Commander Cullen. There was this elf carrying you, the one who has been taking care of your mark, my Lady.' 

An image flashed through her mind of a bald elf with a scowl. She then remembered her dream. 

_Handsome Dream Baldie?! What the-?_

'I'm certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you've wakened. She said "at once."' The servant girl stood up and began to quickly leave the room. 'In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. "At once," she said!' 

The second the girl left, Loriel burst out crying. 

_Where am I?! What am I supposed to do? Someone, please ..._

Her Mythal Head Voice decided to butt in, ' _The elf ..._ ' 

_Ugh, Voiceinmyhead, its not the time-_

' _Remember..._ ' 

Loriel splayed herself on the bed, her hands on her face and covering her eyes as she quietly cried. 

_I'm trying, I'm really trying! The most I can remember is just this guy from my dream, and that doesn't have to do with anything-_

Suddenly, memories raced through her mind as she got an instant headache: an explosion, the temple in ruins. A Crazy Shem with bad breath. A nice looking but scary lady with a Pointy Face. Going with Crazy Shem to close the breach, meeting an elf and a dwarf. Baldness, fabulous baldness. Like an egg ... Shinyyyy. And then a mark, horrible pain ... 

Green light from her hand flared and she sat up, feeling a slight tickle on the palm of her left hand. 

_Holy shit ..._

There was a crack in her hand - A freaking crack! - and a strange green light was glowing from it in fluctuations. She could hear soft whispers, as if the mark was alive. 

_Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit-_

_'Remember ...'_

_Ugh, stop! I know! Doesn't matter how many times you-_

She groaned as the headache came back, and more memories came: Baldie used your hand to close a rift. It's a mark, The mark, the only thing that can close the breach. You tried, but it didn't work. Bright green light in an explosion from the Breach. Must have blacked out. 

She was still for a few moments as she compiled her new memories, trying to understand them. She sat up with an exhausted sigh. 

_Ok, well I guess this kinda makes sense now ... this must be that hand-mark that girl mentioned ... But damn ... Just so crazy ..._

The Mythal Voice came back, _'The elf ...'_

She sighed, and got up, her joints cracking from their stiffness. She stretched, reached for her necklace, and put it on over her beige pajama shirt. 

_Ugh, stop please. I know. Time to find Baldie._

'What a WeirdAss day, doesn't feel real ...' she said quietly to herself as she walked across the room and to the door, putting her hand on the knob, 'Technically, multiple days ...' She paused, her hand still on the knob and sighed, 'Well, time to find Baldie.' She smirked slightly, but her eyes were heavy, 'I should probably stop calling him that ...' 

She opened the door and walked out into Haven. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just confirmation: YES, Handsome Baldie in Loriel's dream in Part 1 IS Solas. Now you guys can just think about that, if you didn't know already. Just let that sink in .....


	6. Baldie and The Giant Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they actually have a partially sane conversation. Some Hinterlands action next chapter. 
> 
> And why does Loriel have a jawbone necklace you ask?? hhmmmmm... HHHHMMMMM ..... hmm hmm hmmmmm....  
> Just read why. Everything shall become clear.... well at least sorta clear .... you're gonna hafta wait a good number of chapters muahahahah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we see a Solas, dancing in his natural habitat: https://instagram.com/p/13odTezApv/
> 
> It is believed that this is part of the Solas mating ritual. Upon viewing a desirable Lavellan, a Solas strips down and proceeds to rub itself in body oil, especially its bald head, since this is the most attractive bodily attribute to a Lavellan. The shinier and balder, the better. It then plays some hip young people music, and begins to sexually boogie.

During the three days of Loriel's recovery, all of Ferelden and Orlais had gone wild. Riots filled the streets, mages ran free, templars went rogue, and millions of faithful Andrastians weeped for the death of their Divine. The Breach remained in the sky, its presence seen as a feared premonition of the end of the World. Rifts plagued all of Ferelden, and word quickly spread farther and farther out into all of Thedas. 

In all the chaos, there was a defining name whispered among the vengeful and hopeless alike: The Herald of Andraste. Rumors of her spread like a wildfire, feeding off fear and growing in the hearts of the desperate. It was this "Herald" that was most feared as well as revered; was she to be a savior or the last harbinger of Thedas's final fight? Was she to bring the end of the world? 

~~~

The moment Loriel opened the door to Haven and saw the crowd that was waiting for her, she froze. A group of around 50 shems were just standing there, staring at her. Some were soldiers, Loriel guessed, by their strange metal helmets and uniform fluffy armors, while others seemed to be normal commoners who seemed to stare at her as if she was the most amazing yet terrifying person they had ever seen. 

Loriel stood at the open door for a moment, clutching its handle, her eyes wide and terrified. She had just seen her first shems three days ago, and this many at once, staring at her, scared her shitless. Loriel was sure she was about the pee her pants. Slowly, she walked backwards into her little house, slammed the door, and internally screamed. 

'HOLY FEN'HAREL'S TIGHT ASS-' she gasped under her breath.

She was leaning against the door, her hands in her hair and her face seemed to be silently screaming. She slid down to the floor, her elbows on her knees, as she tried to rationalize her current situation. 

'Just a couple of shems ... not that scary ... just a couple ...'

Suddenly, she remembered she hadn't bathed for three days. She could feel her fingers becoming slightly greasy as she ran them through her dirty hair, and when she touched her face she could feel its built-up, oily grime. She wondered what that elven girl must have thought seeing her like this. 

She immediately refocused her thoughts to her appearance. Because, of course, how was she supposed to brave the horde of evil shems if she looked like a soggy piece of nug meat? In the real world, her always present and fickle fast-paced nature would most likely be diagnosed as ADHD. 

Springing up quickly in a rush to accomplish her new goal, she began to scurry around the room, opening drawers and cupboards, and basically anything she could figure out how to open. 

_What could I use to cover my hair ..._

She paused and stared at the ground pensively, her hands on her hips, and then a solution struck her. 

'Of course, a hat!' 

After a few minutes of destroying the room and leaving it in a horribly cluttered mess, she finally found her "hat." In a chest from under the bed she found a set of chantry robes as well as a red cowl, on top of which was sewed a fluffy, red pom-pom. 

Loriel grimaced as she stood looking down at the clothes in the chest, 'Oh no no no no, I can't wear ... _that_ ...' 

'But I can't go out there and meet Baldie looking like I just took a midday dip in a pool of melted nug-fat, either ...' 

She groaned and shut her eyes, mentally preparing herself for the worst, 'Ugh, let's just get this over with.' She leaned over, picked up the cowl, and flicked the pom-pom. She looked like she was about to cry as she watched it bounce from side to side. 

'Creators have mercy ....' 

Glancing down at the chantry robes, she had a new idea, 'Well, if I'm going to go out wearing this, might as well have no one know it's me ...' 

~~~ 

Solas was standing at the front of his cabin, staring out at the breach. His hands were grasped behind his back, his face serious in contemplation, and his pajama flap swayed in the chilly mountain breeze. 

Thoughts and calculations were racing through his mind: Where is Corypheus? What is he planning? Can the Breach be closed? How did he know how to unlock the orb's power in the first place? 

He sighed, looking down at the ground. 

_No matter any of this, if the girl does not have the power of mind to face this monster, we are all doomed ..._

Just then, a passing pair of shems deep in discussion interrupted his reverie, 

'Hey, did you see that Chantry Sister? She was walking around quite strangely. And her hat! Don't Chantry Sisters wear those weird, boxy hats?' 

His companion hit him in shoulder, 'Idiot. That wasn't a Chantry Sister, that was the Herald of Andraste.' 

Solas snapped his head towards them, his eyes intense. 

'Noooooo, why would the Herald of Andraste walk around like that?' 

The man huffed, 'Like Hell I know. All I know is that I saw that "Chantry Sister,"' he said this with air quotes, 'walk out of the Herald's cabin. Out the _window_. No one else was in there with her, and when the soldiers checked the place for her, she was gone. It had to be her.' 

'Noooooo ...'

'Yes. Now shut up, and let's get back to work. Commander Cullen wants us in uniform ASAP. If we don't do what he says, I can assure you that the Herald of Andraste's fashion choices will be the least of your worries ...' 

As the two men walked off, Solas had grown extremely angry. To him, not only did Thedas's Last Hope have no amount of common sense, but she also just so happened to be a complete idiot. If she was intelligent, that would be one thing. Maybe he could train her, make her more sensible. But if she lacked even the stability of mind to _be_ taught, then there really was no hope. 

He sighed loudly, his expression harsh and in an angry frown. 

_I must at least try. I will not let this girl be the world's doom._

~~~

Loriel was quickly walking through Haven in her new shem clothes. She was barefoot, as she refused to put on the pair of shoes that had been at the foot of her bed. Also, she didn't know how. She was was looking at the ground, trying to ignore her surroundings, as well as look inconspicuous as she pulled her cowl down over her eyes with her hands as she walked.

She had climbed out the window, and had decided nobody saw her. Of this accomplishment, she was extremely proud. The first way she decided to go was behind the next cabin, therefore avoiding the crowd, and back onto the path and up its small slope. She tripped a couple times on her robe, since the longest thing she had ever worn was a knee-high dress, but decided that her tripping wouldn't make her stand out or seem out of the ordinary since, she thought, _how could anyone walk in this stupid thing without tripping? Everyone must do it ..._

As she proceeded along the path, ignoring her surrounding as much as she could, she noticed, below the rim of her cowl, a bald man in the distance further along, staring right at her.

 _Thank the Creators, its Baldie!_

She smiled, and quickened her pace. 

_Wait, Loriel. You can't Just walk up to him and be like HEY BALDIE!_

She suddenly stopped, and hummed in thought, 

_What's his name ... Salis ... Safris ... Sillis ... Willis ... Come on brain, remember ..._

Her Mythal Head Voice decided to help out, 

_'Solas ...'_

She snapped her fingers and did a small, happy hop in her realization. Her hat fell off. 

'Solas! That's what it was!' 

Realizing she yelled that out-loud, she blanched, and looked around as everyone in the area stared at her. She quickly picked up her cowl, and shoved it back on her head (as if she could somehow salvage the situation) and sped towards Solas. 

As she got closer, however, she noticed he looked quite angry. Extremely angry, actually, and was staring at her like she killed his mother or something. She slowed down and approached slowly. As she rounded up the path and up onto the small, elevated area where his cabin sat, Solas's intense gaze followed her. He turned towards her as she approached, unmoving from the place where he stood, and just glared at her as she came to a stop around seven feet away from him. 

'Solas ... Right?'

'The _chosen_ of Andraste. The _blessed_ hero sent to save us all.' 

Loriel looked at him apprehensively, her eyes squinted, 'Um, yes?'

Solas gave her a harsh appraising look, then turned and took a few steps away, his back to her, 'I've journeyed deep into the fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I've watched as hosts of spirits clash to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.' 

He turned back to Loriel, her face blank and in a slightly mesmerized expression, 'Every great war has its heroes. I'm just curious what kind you'll be.'

Loriel couldn't find it in herself to respond. Not only did she not quite follow what he just said, but his _voice_! Ugh, his voice! It is just, ... _divine!_

Her jaw slacked, 'Woah ...' 

Solas raised an eyebrow, 'Thank you. But might you expand?' 

Loriel snapped out of her trance, and lightly giggled, "Its nothing, nothing, its just that the things you say, how you say it ... its amazing!' She flashed him a bright smile, and Solas couldn't help but stare back at her, surprised. 

Misunderstanding her meaning, Solas gave her a small smile. 

'Thank you. Exploring the fade through dreams is not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything.' 

Loriel nodded briskly, 'Wow! A thousand year old dream?' her History Nerd self began to kick in, 'That must be amazing ...' She smiled and placed her hands behind her back, her hat at a precarious angle on her head from her vigorous nodding, 'You know, I dream about stuff like that, too! I don't get to explore, exactly, but I always make sure to write my dreams down afterwards-' 

Solas looked at her curiously, 'Of what do you dream, may I ask?' 

'Lots of things! Wars, individual people sometimes ... It always plays out like a story. Like a visual story, just for me. And they always seem to be Elven centric ... and never modern. Yeah, never _modern_ , thats for sure ...' 

Solas took a step towards her, his posture tense and head tilted in curiosity, 'Never modern?' 

Loriel blushed at their close proximity, and stared down at her feet, her hat about to fall off and the pom-pom bobbing into her eyes, 'I don't know, its mostly just a feeling ... The way they dress, the cities, the magic ... it just all feels so ... _old_...' 

Solas nodded approvingly, 'Fascinating ... You must tell me more of these dreams-' 

Interrupting him, Loriel's hat fell off.

Almost immediately Loriel pushed Solas away, who had seemed to have drifted very close to her in his curiosity, grabbed her hat, and shoved it back on her head as she blushed furiously. 

'Ugh, sorry. Forgot I must look and smell like nug shite ...' 

She began to walk away from him, her head turned to him as she hastily waved goodbye, 'I'll tell you all about it some other time, I promise!' 

Solas stared at her blank-faced as she tripped a couple times over her dress and hurried away towards the Chantry.

Something hit him then, a massive boulder of a feeling that crashed into him suddenly and left as fast as it had came. He was very confused, and couldn't help but stare at the way she left. All thought of _the impending doom_ had left his mind, and in its place crashed a new curiosity for this girl. For a moment, he was too surprised by her to think of his guilt, his shame, his _mistake_ ... he just watched her leave, her pom-pom bobbing as she tripped over herself the whole way.


	7. Bones of The Dead Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Those wolf jaw bones mean what exactly? HHHhhmhmhmhmhmhmhm  
> hhmhhmhmmmmm *queue dramatic drum roll* 
> 
> *********HA LIKE I'D TELL YOU IN THE SUMMARY**********
> 
> all me being a downright jerkface aside, their jawbone necklace thing is really important. and dramatic.  
> read end of chapter 1 (the very end like literally the last couple paragraphs at the bottom) it will hint a lot, in case you guys don't remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now then, just a little disclaimer for this fic:
> 
> 1\. I don't mind killing off characters, i tend to do this often but never main characters
> 
> 2\. I believe in a certain Solas cannon, where he was never in an official relationship with Lavellan, only an implied one (this is why you can't walk up and passionately ravish him whenever you want like the other romances in-game). I also believe their whole relationship was directed by him, started by him, as well as ended by him. She was, in effect, under his manipulation the whole time, making Solas a complete ass. This is how I will write this fic. 
> 
> 3\. I believe Solas is quite a manipulative and calculating ass-hole, and i will write him as such. I also believe him to be extremely apathetic, kind, and accepting, as well as too experienced for his own good. I will write him as all these things. 
> 
> 4\. There will be a good amount of tragedy as well as some references to mental trauma. If you have ever been burned severely and that really bothers you, then please read with caution. That won't turn up for a while, but just saying. 
> 
> 5\. There will be a lot of sensitive topics (including the the burn trauma mentioned above)  
> *repressed memories  
> *severe phobias  
> *death of family/friends  
> *bipolar dispositions (not literally, but very similar)  
> *mental breakdowns, anxiety attacks  
> *basically, realistic tragedy 
> 
> (If you're totally scared to keep following this fic now, i'll say this: I will write plenty of happy times to counter all the drama. I write things how they are. In life, stuff happens, horrible stuff, but great stuff happen as well. I will not sugar coat death or loss, and neither will I not delve deeply into the joys of love and family and friends. As you can tell, everything i've written so far has been happy and that won't change, just prepare for some really horrible things to happen later)

It was the first day on the job for Loriel, being the "Herald of Andraste" and all. She had met a lot of people, had almost shat her pants a couple times, and was altogether a mess. First, she met Solas, whom she had decided was pretty great even though he was a flat-ear and she had only talked to him for about 5 minutes. That sexy voice of his had definitely helped with her good opinion.Then, she met Cullen. That hadn't gone nearly as well, since it wasn't really a meeting, as it was, 'Hey, I'm a heavily armored manly-man shem who can lop off your head in an instant with my billowy, manly shem arms.' Well, at least that was Loriel's impression of him. Not like she really was paying attention to anything he had to say in the first place. His scary buffness was what took top priority. 

You see, Loriel doesn't like buffness. Not at all. She doesn't like being vulnerable, and the very thought of someone being so beyond her strength, becoming angry and hurting her, even if accidentally, terrified her. It wasn't as if this fear stemmed from being beaten as a child. That wasn't it. Her mother loved her more than anything in the world, and her father was dead so he couldn't beat her even if he wanted to. No, it was purely the fear of being overpowered. Forced to submit. Put in a fight that she had no possibility of winning. This fear carried through many aspects of her life. She hated using her magic to fight, for one, since she had very little confidence in her abilities. Not only that, but her magic scared her, since she felt as if the magic had control, not her. She hated arguments, she hated having enemies, and more than all of that, she hated being unable to control herself.

A year ago, she was chosen to be the next Keeper of her clan. She was to be the prophet of Mythal, be able to predict the future, and share a special bond with the Goddess meant to last for an eternity. She was made one with a piece of Mythal's soul, which might sound freaking awesome to some, but in reality, it's more of a horrible curse than some nice side-benefit to already having to lead one of the biggest Dalish clans of them all. Being the Keeper of clan Lavellan meant you might a) die early, b) lose your sanity, c) become an abomination with uncontrollable and immense power, and d) ultimately have a shitty life. On the other hand, you could end up becoming practically immortal. Sure, lots of people would take that chance for immortality because, of course, anything is worth being able to defy death, even if that means losing yourself entirely. Loriel didn't feel this way, however. She hated the voices in her head, though she had learned to accept them. She hated what she had been forced into, what she had been forced to _submit to._ She couldn't choose which side of the coin her fate would land on, and the very thought that so many unpreventable things could happen haunted her subconscious always. 

Many of the keepers, including her mother, were utterly destroyed by this connection with Mythal. Her mother grew weaker and weaker by the day. She was rapidly aging and slowly losing her mind. Like many others before her, the piece of Mythal, even though small, was too much for her to handle. It eroded her body and her will of mind, causing her to lose herself to the consciousness of Mythal quite easily. Loriel remembers, before she left for the Conclave, her mother going on one of her rampages again, losing her mind to Mythal. You see, though the pieces of the Goddess's spirit might be pure at first, that purity is too easily darkened and, more often than not, much too powerful for a mortal to withstand. Many Keepers had become corrupted and forced into suicide before they became abominations, for the protection of the clan. 

Loriel knew, in the recesses of her mind, which she desperately tried to ignore, that her mother would most likely have to commit suicide if she didn't die before finally losing herself. She knew that her own fate would most likely be similar. It was improbable to her, in Loriel's subconscious, that she should ever have the power to withstand what her mother could not and gain immortality. She had accepted this by forcing herself not to think, not to feel the weight of what she could become. She learned to get along with the annoying voices in her head, to not get upset on the rare occasions where she would wake up not remembering what happened the day before, since her "Mythal Personality" had taken over. In the back of her mind, she hated it, yet she learned to forget that side of her. The side of her that was so deeply and inescapably afraid. 

She would not submit. She would not accept her powerlessness against the seemingly inevitable. Her outside self would stand and fight, as hard as it could. 

She would stand, even if that meant forgetting a part of herself in the process. 

~~~

Loriel, Varric (Thunder Thighs) , Solas (Baldie), and Cassandra (Crazy Shem/ Stinky Breath) had just arrived in the Hinterlands with the main goal of finding some Chantry Mother who apparently might have some idea of what the fuck they were supposed to do next. Loriel thought it was most likely a waste of time, though she wouldn't say it, and found herself quite content, anyways, just wandering and exploring. She always loved nature, though she had never really been allowed to roam the forest around the camp back home, so while running around the grassy space behind the camp they arrived at, Loriel had become giddy with her newfound freedom. 

She plopped herself in the grass, staring up at the sky while smiling brightly, 'Hey, Saffris, look at this!' She pointed up at the sky.

Solas walked over with an annoyed huff, _'Solas.'_ he corrected. 'Loriel, stop wasting time. We must not let our guard down and loll about. This area is riddled with rogue templars and mages. We mustn't-' 

'Ya see that cloud? It looks like a wolf!' Loriel giggled lightly. 

He seemed to have almost growled under his breath, _'No. No it doesn't.'_ He walked up to her, standing behind her at her head. 

Cassandra stomped up then through the trees, her face furious and hair disheveled, 'YOU TWO LEFT US! WE HAD TO FIGHT THOSE TEMPLARS ALONE! WHAT ON THEDAS-' 

Varric came running behind her, his little stumpy legs moving as fast as they could go, 'Woah there, Seeker!' he stood next to Cassandra, who was glaring threateningly at Solas, 'I'm sure they had a good reason.' 

Loriel was ignoring them completely, though her smile was gone as she continued to stare up at the clouds. 

'THERE IS NO GOOD REASON FOR THIS, VARRIC.' She harshly gestured to Loriel, 'AND YOU. YOU FOLLOWED HER.' 

Solas grasped his hands behind his back, organizing himself back into his aristocratic posture, 'I knew you and Varric were capable enough for the fight. I had noticed Loriel seemed troubled, and when she never attacked and fled, I thought she must be followed and checked on.' 

Cassandra walked up menacingly close to Solas, her hands fisted, 'THAT IS NO EXCUSE-' 

Varric walked up in front of her, blocking the two, as Loriel continued to stare up at the sky a few feet ahead of them, 'Yes, yes, we know, Seeker.' He pushed her away from Solas by her abdomen, 'But how about we focus on the real problem. Like why our little Princess is crying all by herself.' 

Cassandra stopped at this, her face blank, 'Wha- What?' 

Solas looked down at Loriel curiously. 

Cassandra stuttered as she looked to Loriel, wet streaks shining down her face in the sun as she stared up at the sky on her back facing away from them, 'I- I didn't know-' 

Varric ignored her, walked over to Loriel, stretching a hand out to her, 'Come on Princess, let's go get you a hot mug of tea back at the camp. And away from these two bullies.' 

Loriel nodded, took his hand, which she didn't really need, and stood up, not saying a word. 

Varric gave a disapproving look to Cassandra and then to Solas, who was looking extremely quizzical. He kept holding her hand as they slowly walked back to the camp at the cliff by the town, Solas staring Loriel down the whole way. 

~~~ 

Loriel was sitting at a bench under a tree with Varric back at camp, staring into a tin mug of tea which she held tightly with both hands. Her red hair was falling over her eyes, her face in a very sad pout. The red, branching markings of her face seemed to have turned a color of blood red in the shade. She reached up a hand from holding the mug, and rubbed her right eye with the back of her wrist. 

Varric voice was gentle and almost a whisper, 'It's okay, Princess. You don't have to tell me.'

Loriel shook her head and sniffed, 'I'm sorry ...' 

Varric smiled lightly to reassure her, 'No. Don't be. Chuckles and Cassandra will come around. You'll see.' He waited for a moment for her to respond, which she didn't. 

'Ya know Loriel, it's not your fault. They came out a' nowhere. And you were so happily dancing around in that field ...' he sighed, 'I know you're probably new to all this killing bullshit, and to be attacked when you were so happy ... Princess, I'm sorry. That you have to go through all this.'

Loriel shook her head again lightly, 'Thanks, Varric ...' 

Varric chuckled, patting her on the back, 'Hey! You didn't call me Thunder Thighs! Almost best friends already,' he flashed her his most charming smile. 

Loriel giggled lightly, though she was still staring into her mug. 

Varric smirked in triumph, 'Hey, before you know it, we'll become the best of bosom buddies. Infecting the world with the cheesiest of nicknames and most horribly amazing stories.'

Loriel smiled sadly, though it was genuine, and looked to her side at Varric, 'Can't wait.' 

Varric chuckled deeply, 'There's my girl!' he pretended to sniffle and wipe a tear from his eye dramatically, 'My only daughter, growing up so fast ...' 

Loriel grinned at him, her expression no longer sad, 'Dang, Thunder Thighs, I just met you about a week ago. Don't remember becoming your daughter. Also, if you haven't noticed already,' she grabbed her left ear and wiggled it at him, 'I'm an elf. I don't really think that's how breeding works, by the way.' 

'Ah, Princess ...' he smirked, 'You're my _adopted_ daughter, of course.' 

Loriel laughed freely, 'Sure, Thunder Thighs. Sure.' 

~~~

The team had decided to rest for the night, due to Loriel's refusal to leave camp, and take up the task of talking to the Chantry Mother in the morning. Loriel had become very vehement about staying in camp. She refused to leave, saying she couldn't and wouldn't fight. That she couldn't risk it; could not risk running into enemies again. Varric and Cassandra, not understanding at all, decided to not question why, leaving her alone to her worries. 

It was 3 in the morning. The moon, unnaturally wide in the sky, shone down its glow over the whole area. Though most of the camp was asleep, besides a few guards, Loriel was pacing furiously a bit outside of the camp, her face squished in anguish and anxiety. Her markings seemed to glow a faint red in the night, as did her elven eyes, though with a slightly more orange tinge. 

Solas watched her carefully from a distance. They were both in a cluster of trees, hidden from the camp and the guards' watchful eyes. His eyes glowed a careful grayish blue, and were sharp against the night. 

Slowly he approached, in his usual regal posture. They were both still wearing their armors, Solas in a raggedy green overcoat with beige pants, Loriel in a dark beige mage's coat. 

Loriel stopped as she heard him approach, and snapped her head to him, her gaze furious. 

'Stop. Go back,' her voice was a quiet hiss. 

'What troubles you ...' He said this more like a statement, less like a question. 

She fisted her hands as she turned from him, her face down, 'Nothing.' 

'Do not avoid this. It is obviously not nothing. Your rapid change of personality and mood is almost startling.' 

Loriel actually growled. Solas eyebrow quirked up in curiosity and he took a few more steps towards her, stopping two feet from where she stood, tense and glaring at the ground. 

He waited in silence for her response. 

Her marks flared suddenly, a bright red shining from them brightly. 

She whispered harshly, 'I'm warning you ... back off. Now.' 

He stood his ground, watching her silently, his hands gripped behind his back. 

She growled, 'Back off ...' she snapped around, whipping her arm across her and down to her side, 'NOW!' 

Solas was slightly startled, though appeared mostly unfazed, and took a few steps back, though he kept his calm gaze baring into her, as she now stared back, her mouth in a snarl and eyes a fierce, bright light. There was no orange left. Her markings' light ripped like fire in the dark, giving her a menacing appearance. Her snarl showed a fang which was encroaching down onto her full bottom lip. 

She was breathing heavily, glaring Solas down, her stance as if she was preparing to attack. Despite this, Solas remained where he was, standing just as regally as when he first approached. A bright glow was beginning to encircle around her on the ground in the pattern of a rune. 

She screamed out in pain, and clutched at her marked hand, which began to glow a harsh green. She dropped to her knees, as the rune around her flared, fully formed. Walls of red light shot up from it in intricate, branching patterns. 

Her voice was cracked and struggling, 'Solas, _please_ ...' 

Solas didn't move, yet he stared at her shocked, his eyes wide and panicking. He had never seen anything like this. Strings of red light were reaching up from the rune, encircling and wrapping around her. 

_What is this ... this rune ... just like when Flemeth transforms ... NO! IMPOSSIBLE!_

Before he could react, however, Loriel suddenly stopped her struggling. Light shot up from the rune in a great, red beam. Green light spread through her markings, intermingling with the red. She stood up slowly, her incisors fully fanged and her irises in the shape of smooth diamonds, her pupils black slits. 

She spoke quietly, her voice powerful and echoing and not her own, 'Dread Wolf. I told you. I told you to go.' She took a menacing step towards him. The rune, now shimmering in a whirlpool of light around Loriel, followed under her as she walked and stopped in front of him, so close they were almost pressed together. 

Solas stared back at her, shocked. He took a careful and slightly frightened step back, his face agape. 

'What ...' he suddenly grew angry, _'What. Is this.'_

Loriel chuckled, the sound menacing and laced with deep, booming power. She stepped towards him again, placing a hand to his cheek. Solas stiffened with the contact, his face turning still and emotionless. She traced a finger down the side of his face and jaw. She grasped his chin then, leaning up towards him, pressing her body against his. She tilted her head, her lips in an evil, snarling smile, almost meeting his. 

Solas snarled, grabbed her wrist, pulled it above her head, and forcefully pulled her away from him. Loriel chuckled menacingly at this, grabbed his collar with her free hand, and pulled him back towards her. She whispered slowly in his ear, in Elven,

'Do you not recognize your other half, _ma Vhenan?_ How _rude_.' 

Solas's eyes grew wide from the shock of such fluent Elven from her lips. He shivered at the feeling of her hot breath at his ear. He tried to force his body to move, to force her away, but he couldn't. She had too much power, and she was commanding him to be still. He could not move. He couldn't see past her, as her rune's walls of light obstructed his view of everything but her. He shuddered in panic. 

Suddenly she withdrew. 

Still in Elven she spoke, 'Release my wrist, would you?' Her unnatural, animalistic eyes bore into him, commanding him. He released her, against his will. 

Loriel smiled, licking her lips, her tongue tracing a fang, _'Good boy ...'_

Solas shuddered again. Nothing made sense, he could control nothing. Everything she spoke, Elven ... 

She took him by the shoulders, and walked him against a tree, pinning him there with her body, her fire rune's light circling and pulsing around them. 

She grasped his chin once again, turning his gaze down to her. She took her hand, and traced his features; down his temple, the side of his face, his jaw, his lips. She did it hungrily at first, then suddenly, her eyes grew soft. Almost sad. She stroked his cheek lovingly, her face in a gentle frown and she scanned over his features, 'Ma Vhenan, ar lath ma ...'

Gripping the back of his neck slowly, she pressed her forehead to his, softly whispering, 'Dirthara-ma, Fen'harel. Mala suledin nadas ma abelas. Ma lathbora viran him ma revas ...' 

Standing there for what seemed hours to Solas, she stared into his eyes, him being forced to stare back into hers. He was terrified, confused, panicked. Her eyes were unnatural, like a snake's, like a dragon's, but the way they bore into is, with such sudden love, made his heart lurch. 

Slowly, her grip on the back of his neck released, as did her magical command on Solas and the fiery rune below them. The red lights circling them died with a whisper. With one last loving smile, her eyes fell shut, and her body crumpled to the ground in front of him. Solas bent down to her immediately, but froze when he saw a slight glow coming from below his gaze.

Around his neck, a message was engraving itself into his wolf's jawbone, which had come free from under his tunic. The same words she said carved themselves into the bone with a red glow, the writing tiny and elegant, its message forming on both sides. He took the bone in his hands, and traced the now formed words with his thumb. 

_"Dirthara-ma, Fen'harel. Mala suledin nadas ma abelas. Ma lathbora viran him ma revas."_

Suddenly, a disembodied voice whispered into the night air, its source undeterminable. Solas started, ripping his gaze from the necklace, and looking around himself. The voice was old and raspy, yet carried the smooth fluency and melody of Dirthamen's. It was Dirthamen's voice. Lavellan's voice, when he was dying. Mortal. Thousands of years ago, before his slumber. 

_'May you learn, Dread Wolf. Now you must endure your sorrows. Your path to the place of lost love becomes your freedom.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of Loriel's "dramaticness" in this chapter is caused by the fact that, as a sheltered Dalish, she had never killed a person or watched someone die from anything besides sickness. She is a young girl (by Dalish standards which are different than Shems') and was not yet of age to become a hunter, especially since she is a female. Her own powers scare her, and she (currently) hates having to kill. She will change later, just like a real person, and her squeamishness will eventually fade.


	8. The Evil Eggman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Updated chapter 8: Solas is freakn' out and loriel is like whaaaaat.
> 
> also some dirthamen/lavellan explanation (just a little tho)
> 
> (p.s. remember Waking Up in Haven chapter when loriel puts on her wolf jawbone necklace .... it comes up!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to write in compact chunks of story, so if you think the story is going too slow just trust when i say there's gonna be substantial time skips to keep the story up to speed. its gonna kinda go like: important stuff ==> time skip ==> important stuff ==> time skip, etc. just _bear_ with me, here. (ya get it? the bear joke? Jaws of Hakkon? Cassandra? ok nvm i'm a nerd)

_That was Lavellan's voice ... How?! He's DEAD!_

Solas was kneeling before Loriel. Her fangs had receded, and her face seemed to be in an unconscious calm as she laid on the damp, grassy ground before him. There was something mellow about how she seemed so powerless, so weak. Her pale skin seemed to have lost a certain glow about it, as if all magic had left her, leaving her drained of her usual, vibrant radiance. Her body, turned on its side, rose and fell with steady breaths while her arms curled before her. She looked to be in a calm, peaceful sleep, although Solas knew better. He knew her condition was unnatural, but his brain was racing with other thoughts far too fast to ponder why.

Head in his hands and elbows to his knees, he panicked for answers. He knew Dirthamen was dead, and that all that was left of him was but a piece, preserved in the fade by his vow of servitude he had made to Mythal before death; his personality fleshed out by a spirit in emulation of what he was. Dirthamen did not exist, since a piece of a soul cannot make a person, despite a spirit's aid, no matter how accurate its copy. A being made by a piece of a soul and a spirit could have no real power beyond the fade, this Solas knew. He had made it that way. There was no rift, the veil was strong. So, _what could have happened?_ But more importantly, what could have _caused_ it to happen ... 

Calming himself, he took his jawbone into his hands, and ran two fingers against the softly glowing engravings. The markings were hot, as if they were dying embers, and seemed to slightly crackle and flicker in the night. 

_Dirthara-ma, Fen'Harel ..._

He stood, slowly pacing by Loriel's unconscious body, reading the jawbone's inscriptions, 

_Mala suledin nadas ma abelas ... Ma lathbora viran him ma ravas ... ?_

He gripped the bone in his right fist, stopping in his tracks by Loriel, his brow furrowed in contemplation, 

_Path to the place of lost love ..._

He growled, his left hand fisted at his side as his left, gripping the bone, came to his forehead in frustration. 

His voice was quiet and strained, 'What _is_ this? Some sort of _game?!'_

He stood in silence for a few moments, as his emotions combatted his sense of logic. That _was_ Lavellan's voice; of this, he was in no doubt. It was old and weak, yet carried the strength of magic and unique wisdom only possessed by Lavellan at the end of his years. The copy of him in the fade was roguish and mocking, and took the persona of when he was young and immortal and a God, not the later version of himself when he knew the pains of mortality and the struggles of a slave. He had not heard his dear friend for thousands of years, and so suddenly hearing it, in such a sudden and emotionally confusing way, was threatening to break his composure altogether. 

He took a deep sigh, and sat down crosslegged before Loriel, his head in his right palm and jawbone now in his lap. 

_I don't ... I just don't understand ... Lavellan ..._

Bringing his hand away from his face, he looked to Loriel with a sad expression, 

_And what of this girl? What have you done to this girl ... What is she?_

Something caught his sight then. The jawbone necklace Loriel wore had come out from under her clothing and now laid around her neck, the dark jawbone resting on the grass near her chest. There was nothing magical about it, though its likeness to his was uncanny. 

He leaned over her body, taking the bone into his hands. It was the exact same shape, size, color, and on further examination with a slight use of magic, even the same age. Solas thought the latter was impossible, since his jawbone was thousands of years old. How could they be of the same age? And the same size? Casting a small ball of light next to him, he placed them parallel to each other, one in each hand, and examined their details. Despite his possessing engravings, they were an exact match. 

Only a bone from the same animal could be so exactly symmetrical, and it was completely impossible she possessed his bone's match, since it was a gift from Lavellan upon his departure, and only he could have the other half, and he was dead. Unless ... 

_Her surname is Lavellan, meaning she is of the descendants of Lavellan's long ago established clan ..._

His eyes widened in his realization, 

_Could he have ... kept the bone's match? Passed it down to his successor? And them, their successors after? That must mean Loriel is..._

He looked down to her sleeping figure,

_the next successor?_

His mind snapped and refocused to Loriel: what she had done, what she had _become._ His mind raced at the thought of her fangs, her feral eyes. He had been trying to keep the most important piece of the puzzle out of his thoughts in an attempt to keep calm, he realized, and now that he placed the pieces together, it all seemed clear. 

He tensed, speaking in a low growl, 

'Lavellan, what have you _done ..?!'_

A thought struck him then, and he felt idiotic for not having realized earlier: 

_Lavellan was a servant of Mythal! Whatever this is, it is in no doubt her doing. Loriel's actions certainly carried Mythal's ... eccentric flare._

'Not Lavellan, no ... Mythal ... what have you done ...?' 

~~PART 2~~

'Agh ...' Loriel rubbed her eyes, 'The fuck man ... my head hurts like a _bitch._

She heard a dramatic gasp from somewhere to her left, 'Princess! Such horribly foul language!' 

Turning her head to her side, she saw Varric fully armored and walking up to her with an annoying smirk. She had just woken up, and was laying on a mat outside her tent. Her head was pounding, she was slightly nauseous, and she felt extremely weak, so much so she thought she might not even be able to get up. She slapped a hand to her forehead in pain at Varric's sudden, joyous yells. 

'Varric, I love you like a brother, but-' 

Varric interrupted, 'You mean _father._ ' he continued to walk up to her.

'Yea, yea, I'm your adopted daughter blah blah I get it, but could you please-' She groaned as her head pounded once again, much harder the previously, 'SHUT UP AND FALL OFF THEDAS AND NEVER COME BACK-' 

Varric, who was now standing at her side, started a bit at her sudden exclamation. 

At her yell, her head pounded so hard she felt it would split open, 'OH FUCK ME AGH FUCK FUCK FUCK-' And since she continued to yell, her head pounded even harder again, which made her yell even more, which then made almost every soldier in the camp look at her like she was a lunatic. 

'Woah woah woah! Calm down!' Varric turned around, 'Hey Chuckles, get over here!' 

After Loriel quieted down a bit and was only loudly saying, not yelling like before, "fuck me" and "fuck" over and over again in pain, Varric decided it was okay to speak, 'Please, princess, stop yelling "oh, fuck me." I'm pretty sure some of the soldiers are getting ideas.'

Solas approached, looking quite annoyed, 'Yes, I think that would be wise.' 

He walked up to her, and kneeled at her side, a green healing aura beginning to spread around his hands, 'Varric, I can't help her unless she is still.' 

'Got it.' Varric hurried around her mat to its other side to give Solas space, and promptly began pulling her hands from her face and pushing her arms down to the side of her head.

Cassandra was stomping up to them from the far side of the camp, 'WHAT IN THE WORLD IS GOING ON H-'

Loriel's head snapped up to Cassandra, 'I SWEAR TO DIVINE JUSTINIA'S SAGGY DEAD ASS, CASSANDRA, IF YOU CONTINUE THAT SENTENCE I WILL PERSONALLY WALK OVER THERE AND SLAP YOU SO FUCKING HARD YOUR HEAD WILL TEAR OFF FROM YOUR NECK AND-' 

Loriel stopped mid rant, looking at Cassandra from her mat with wide eyes, who was staring right back at her like Loriel had just kicked her puppy. 

'Wait a second, my head's stopped hurting!' 

Varric let go of her with a slightly nervous chuckle, and she immediately sprang up, 'I'm free!' 

Solas stood, two fingers to his brow from annoyance, 'Loriel, lay back down please.' 

He didn't need to tell her twice, however, since she fell right back down to her mat. She had forgotten she was so weak, the cause of this weakness being unknown to her. She crumpled right back down the exact moment Solas finished his sentence, as if by Solas's command. 

Varric chuckled heartily, 'Woah, Solas, what spell was that?' 

Solas kneeled back down to Loriel and put a hand to her forehead, ignoring him.

Cassandra walked up to Varric apprehensively, 'What is ... going on here?' 

'Well Solas just did some cool magic trick on Loriel. Hope he doesn't do that to me.' He swung his arms dramatically around himself, 'Varric, wax my scalp! Varric, fetch me a fresh pair of hobo pajamas! Varric, moisturize my-' 

Solas spoke slowly, 'Please stop talking, _Varric,'_ He gestured to Loriel barely moving and breathing heavily on the mat, 'and get me some health tonics as well as a moist towel.' 

Varric looked guiltily down at Loriel, 'Oh I didn't notice ... Right away.' he hurried off into the camp. 

'Cassandra, Loriel has a fever. Please go tell Mother Giselle we will be meeting her at noon.' 

Cassandra, dumbfounded, looked at Solas, then at Loriel, and back to Solas, 'yes- yes, of course ...' She hurried down the slope towards the town. 

Solas sighed and put a hand to Loriel's cheek, which was rosy red and burning up from her fever. 

Squinting up at him, her face contorted into as evil an expression as she could muster, 'You ... you ...!' Her arm feebly poked him in the chest, 'This is _your_ fault ...!' 

His eyebrow quirked, 'Excuse me?' 

'Yoouuuuuu ...' She poked him in the chest again. 

'Meeeeee?' a small smirk played across his lips. 

She grimaced, her face squishing up, 'Evil bald man ...' 

Solas laughed lightly, 'Very true.' 

She poked his forehead, 'Like an egg ...' 

'Yes.' 

'So tell me, evil eggman ...' Her pointed finger swayed as she tried to poke him in the chest again. She missed though, drastically, and poked him in the cheek. 

He wore a very wide smile, as he couldn't resist her endearing actions, 'hmm?' 

He thought she looked like a blushing drunk, nug, whatever that might look like, and this somehow made him very happy. 

'Why ... why didn't you ...' she lowered her hand to her chest and closed her eyes with a big yawn, 'why didn't you go ...?' 

Solas's smile left in a flash, and his face shadowed a reserved panic, 'Of what ... do you-' 

She reached up a hand, her eyes still closed, and waved it around till she found his cheek with a small slap. She opened her eyes, and her face grew serious. Well, at least as serious as she could make it. 

'I told you to leave ... but you stayed ...' 

Solas took her hand from his cheek and slowly placed it on her chest, 'I do not know what you speak of-' 

She closed her eyes again and murmured quietly, 'Liar ...' 

She turned over onto her side, her back facing Solas, snuggling up in a ball. 

_How does she remember! I made sure to erase her memory!_

Solas stood up, turning away from her, frowning, with wide eyes looking at the ground. 

A soft murmur interrupted his small panic as he felt two arms wrap around his ankles and a chest press against the bare heels of his feet, 'Thank you ...'

His stilled as he listened to her speak, 

'For not leaving ...'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol foreshadowing much?

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment!!! I really need feedback this is really new for me so please share any opinions you have!!! I'm open to criticism and would highly appreciate it. I also plan for this to be a series, so in effect, it should have many chapters and end up being pretty long. I base my stuff off lore so everything that happens (or is treated as cannon) shouldn't be impossible by the rules of the DA universe (but I love to tweak... just a little... or a lot). 
> 
> -Emma


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